Fic title: Lie To Me
Fandom: Angel
Ship: Illyria/Wesley, Fred/Wesley
Rating: PG 13
Genre: Angst
Summary: I had never been so aware of the blood until it coated my hands, mocking me with mortality.
Word Count: 1040
Other Info: Written for trialbymagic as part of the whedonland gift giving.
Lie To Me
Blood. It pulsated through the body. It twisted in the veins like a burning poison that slowly seeped into every broken fragment of the mortal shell. The heart that beat inside the chest throbbed painfully and the air inside the aching lungs, caught in the throat. I had never been so aware of the blood until it coated my hands, mocking me with mortality. The blood was cold against the skin. It did not belong there. It was far away from its home and it could never return. The meaning of its existence had ceased. And so it clung desperately to the hands, battling the rain that beat down and that slowly tore it away.
The rain was harsh and unyielding. It soaked me to the skin and yet I barely noticed. This body's internal workings were unstable. The mind was clouded with confusion. The breath came in short frantic gasps which made the lungs ache and the head spin. The chest was tightened, like the heart had swelled until there was no room for air. The mind and body no longer belonged to me. They were enslaved to rage and pain that bypassed all comprehension. The shell had become a weapon of destruction. I had become a weapon utilised for someone else's battle.
The memories that evoked the pain and rage within me, did not belong to me. They came from a time when I was sleeping and yet the emotions they had left bypassed every instinct of self preservation. I entered the battle even though I knew the emotions were not mine. They were just residual fragments of the shell. I wished that I could destroy them. I had hoped that they would crumble with the sorcerer's head. I should have known that they would not leave. They had nowhere else to go.
I had not the strength that I did once. My powers had waned and I was but a pale imitation of my former self. The mortality of the situation unnerved me and I understood that the battle might not be one that I would return from. It did not concern me as much as it should have. The twisted emotions comforted me. They whispered stories of sunshine and warmth that gave birth to the urge for violence and bloodshed. I might not make it through the battle, but I knew I would have retribution.
The moment was over. It was time to move. It was not safe to linger there for too long. The street was empty but it would not remain so. The fight was coming. I could feel it in my blood. It called to me. The violence. The bloodshed. The vengeance. It was coming.
I walked to the end and as I walked I remembered. I remembered everything.
I remembered the girl that had a crush on Anthony Turner in the third grade. She wrote poems about the blue of his eyes. She hovered around his locker every morning. He never noticed her. And each day her heart broke a little more.
I remembered the prom night. Gentle fingers that pushed the straps from her delicate shoulders and lips that ghosted across creamy skin. The nerves that coursed through her body as the dress hit the floor. The gentle caress of her face. The soft words in her ear. The pain. The surrender. The climax. The day that she left him standing on his driveway alone. The way she pressed her lips against his and whispered the sweetest goodbye that they had ever known. Tears hot on her face as she turned away and didn't look back to see him cry.
I remembered the college years. The long ardent days. The hot steamy nights. The guys. The girls. The professor. She was always searching for something that was never quite there.
I remembered the cave. It was dark and lonely. And so she would dream. She would dream of the handsome man that would rescue her. The man that she would fall in love with.
I remembered the first moment she saw him. She did not really see him. Her attentions were bestowed upon Angel and then Gunn and she overlooked him. She kept overlooking him. And she never saw the way his heart broke day by day. As fragment after broken fragment she stole away.
I remembered when their lips first met. Two halves becoming whole. Slow and tentative. Both afraid. Too deep. Too real. Too raw. She pushed away. She always pushed away and then it was too late to push anymore.
I remembered how close he held her in those last few moments. The pain that wracked her frail body. The way they kissed. Slow and desperate. She knew then that she had found what she had always been searching for. She knew it then but it was too late. He watched the life drain from her. I stole it away. And yet I remembered it all.
I remembered how it felt. What she saw. What she thought. I remembered it until my eyes burned and my throat closed up. Hot, heavy tears streamed down my cheeks. I brushed them with my fingertips and remembered how she cried. How she hurt. How she loved.
"Would you like me to lie to you now?" I had asked and then I had lied to him.
I held him. I kissed him. I loved him. I felt my heart break with him. I told myself that I was lying to him. But I saw now that the only person fooled was I. I lied that I could not feel. That I could not love. But I know that I loved him. I loved him like he loved the shell--Winifred Burkle. I was not her anymore. But nor was I Illyria either. I could never be either of those states of living again.
The rain caressed my face and it washed away the tears. But the feelings. The pain. The love. They would never fade away. And so I closed my eyes and once again I lied to myself.
I remembered the sunshine, the warmth and the love. For one beautiful moment I pretended that that is how it all would end.